A Mother and her Child

She walked unshod, feet bruised and bloody. Her skirt snagged on a branch, she pressed on, carrying her child beyond the point of exhaustion.
 
He could faintly remember her voice as she would sing lullabies to calm the flow of his tears and infantile wailing. She carried a violin with her, wrapped in the same wool blanket and he shared. A strange symbol etched into its frame. She never played it, he believed she held it for him.
 
“Lights ahead-“ her voice cracked and dry from thirst. Meekly, she uttered “Help.” Before she collapsed.
 
It was the toddlers cries that led the villagers to him. A babe, covered in soot beside his mother, a heap of rags and filth.
 
The old shepherd and his wife looked to one another before the woman scooped the child and her husband called out for help.
 
————
The traveling physician came around once monthly. He arrived a week after the woman and child, and drank tea with the shepherd after dinner.
 
“She was barely alive when we found’em Master, skin ‘angin off ‘Er bones. The pup was fed well’nuff. Prolly gave all’er food to make sure he made it. Gave a burial right proper master, right proper. Sue and I would take the lad if we could, sure knows we use help round the farm, but it’s a rough winter and we lost a pup last frost. Toos many mouths t’feed, toos many worries in this cold. Don’t wanna bury another pup.” The shepherd wore rough spun clothes, his teeth clinking against the tip of his pipe as he leaned in. “Nots to mention, he’s got knife ears. The lass was human.”
The physician was a balding man, grey of beard in a smock covered in blood. His days work was abundant. He looked at the young half elf boy waddling around, before sipping his tea. “It’s a shame. I guess I could take the lad with me on my trip to Doolin. Drop him off the orphanage. I wasn’t due there for another month. Very well, have the lad dressed and fitted with oats and wool come morning.”
 
The next overcast morning, a tall man loaded the boy atop a wagon cart next to the smiling physician as they rolled out of the village. The shepherd and his wife coming out to watch the boy leave. He reached his arms out and cried.
 
With straw hat in hand and his wife sobbing in his shoulder, they looked on in shame.
 
Jazbet was alone.